


Mirabella

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2004-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young hobbit tells the story of her life in the shire, through famine, war and the coming of Gandalf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mirabella Waymoot

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Part One

Mirabella Waymoot

 

 

 

My story I suppose can only begin when I was born, that was 1114, Shire Reckoning of course, to you I think it was the year 2714 of the Third Age or some nonsense. Gandalf once told me all about what lies beyond the Shire, but I never found much need to remember all of that, I was quite content in my hobbit-hole with my father and mother Isengar and Asphodel Waymoot.

We lived in Waymoot of course, in the West Farthing. It was found on the East Road which was convenient for travelling and all, but I never found much need. We were a prominent family, rich as ever. As a child I spent my days in the fields surrounding Waymoot and helped my mother out in the Garden. The most adventure I had is when some other children and I would attack birds with rocks, and what mighty aims we all had too! I tell you, those birds ran when they saw us coming up the road.

My father would often sit me on his lap as say in a tender voice: "If you were a boy, you'd be a great warrior."

But I was happy being a girl, I liked taking breaks from my play wars attacking birds to sit in the garden with my mother and plant flowers. My mother even gave me my own little garden in the corner of hers where I could plant what I fancied how I fancied. My mother would then tell me all sorts of things about different herbs, about how they were used to heal and to eat as well as to decorate.

The idea that my little flower garden could cure people interested me so much that I spent most of my days tending to my garden and teaching to myself which root or herb to use on what. I came to consider myself to be quite learned, and so did the other children. Whenever one of the children got a scrape or a bruise from playing, they would track me down and I would play doctor for them.

My parents were very happy that I had taken an interest in the art of healing and so decided one day to introduce me to Angelica Burrows. She was an old hobbit, the oldest in Waymoot and most of us children stayed far away from her, and other would tell stories about the evil deeds she did. But when I met her I noticed that she smelled of herbs and that there was a glint in her eyes that told me she was wise and young at heart.

I was often over at Angelica Burrows' hobbit-hole, and even though she was the mid-wife for Waymoot, she always had time to let me visit or to teach me about brand new medicines and technics of gardening. Being that she was so old, she had had long years to master such things, and she had been midwife for as long as anyone could remember - so she was the one who helped my mother give birth to me, a matter which she was sure to remind me of all the time.

Midwife Burrows, well she took a liking to me, almost like a mother to a daughter I think, because whenever I visited her covered in mud from working and playing she would have a smile on her face and serve me lunch, or elevenses, or tea with cakes, or all three, depending on what time it was. We would talk and she would tell me stories about everyone in Waymoot, and some stories about places farther away, some as far as Bree.

Like I said, she was an old hobbit, 80 back when I was 10, and so she told me all about when my father and mother were growing up. My father, it seemed, had been quite the trouble maker and adventurer, often stealing his fathers bow and a quiver of arrows to go hunting before he was ready for it.

"But always Mira, always, your father would bring back an animal and his parents would cook it for him, aye. Everyone thought for sure that he'd grow up and not marry at all because he was always running off to the North and South Farthing to get to the woods when he became of age." She would say as she smoked her crooked pipe by the roaring fire.

"But he did get married! He had me!" I would retort.

"Aye, he had you. He met yer mother and fell in love, he did! She was a young hobbit and when he saw her his eyes lit up and he broke his bow right on the spot. He said 'I shall never fight or leave Waymoot again' he did!"

"He did not!" I would say with a chuckle, because I could not imagine my father breaking a bow. Many we had hanging around in our hobbit-hole, and at Yulemath he would go out and hunt us a feast. But it was true that since the year 1111 (a very lucky year, I am told) when he married my mother, not once did he leave Waymoot, and I up to that point had never left it neither.

So often did I find myself sitting with the midwife Burrows who would tell me stories of everyone - even myself - over and over again. She always would teach me of herbs, which was why I started visiting her so much in the first place of course. Before I knew it I became something of a midwife myself.

When I turned 20 people began coming to my door with a cold asking for some remedies. Obviously my father had been telling people at the local tavern that I was picking up the trade from midwife Burrows. When I turned 23, midwife Burrows began taking me along with her when there were pregnancies, and I began helping with the deliveries and taking care of the infants and mothers while they recuperated.

Spending all that time around children made me think about them myself. I had grown much from the 10 year old girl who threw rocks at birds - something I hadn't done in such a long while. I spent all my time looking after the sick and newborn, or planting and growing flowers in my little garden.

(Mind you, my garden did quite expand from the little corner that my mother had given to me, though it never grew as large as hers.)

I wanted children. The revelation didn't hit me all at once, it grew in me like a child would. I took care of enough children to know how to do it myself, and knew enough about herbs that if they were ever sick I would never have to truly worry. I also felt old enough, even though I hadn't come of age in the hobbit standards.

This unrest grew in me, and because there was no one in Waymoot that I desired to marry and have children with, I began travelling. I started wandering South, where I often visited Tookbank and then would travel north to Hobbiton or Nobottle and Needlehole, always staying in the West Farthing of course. But my unrest did not give way.

In the year 1140, when my travels were truly just beginning. The Orcs began to attack the Shire. It was strange, because those of us in the West Farthing didn't see it happen often, because most of the fighting happened up in the North Farthings. The raids there were small, and not directed at us, but still they happened and hobbit lives were loss. Enough so that many hobbits left their holes to go off and fight them.

I kept on travelling, though my parents begged me to stay home where it was safe. I wondered for a short while then if my father was not now happy that I was a woman and did not feel the obligation to go to war.

For years I travelled between the three villages of Tookbank, Hobbtion and Waymoot, not daring to go back to Nobottle and Needlehole because they were too far north, I would seldon go to Hobbiton even. As I went, I would take care of little illnesses and give advice to people about herbs where I could. After a while I knew that I had to travel further and then I started travelling East along the East Road.

There I found Bywater, and Overhill and on the other side of the hill in my very own farthing I found Tuckburough, perhaps the friendliest place I had been to yet. I was 28 and found myself going to Tuckburough the most, and staying there the longest. Whenever I visited home, I would revive my little garden, and visit midwife Burrows who could no longer see so well or move so much, and her glint seemed to be going out. I knew that soon Waymoot would be without a midwife, but I also knew that I couldn't be that person.

After that in Overhill I found a midwife apprentice who was willing to move there, where there were not as many Orcs, and when I was 29 I returned to Tuckburough and thought I would perhaps get a job there. Who knew who might need me? But before I found a job, I met a hobbit older than me and much taller as well named Ferumbras Took. I think perhaps that I fell in love with him all at once.

Often we would go for walks and speak of news from other parts of the Shire and I would tell him about herbs and he would tell me about all those who living in Tuckburough. Including his brother Bandobras Took who was the tallest hobbit in the Shire, probably the tallest there ever was or ever would be. He could even ride a horse! But I did not see much of Bandobras, because he was often in the North Farthing fighting off the Orcs as well, and so he should by the size of him.

During this wartime there was so much going on in Hobbiton, so many hobbits and men coming and going, the fear of Orc raids was high especially in a place so close to the North Farthing, but always Ferumbras and I were together, and we - as most hobbits do - found happiness in the bleakest of times.

"Mira," Ferumbras said one day, calling me by my nickname that midwife Burrows had given me so long ago. "If it were not for you, I would find no happiness at all through this depression."

Ferumbras and I knew that we were in love, and so it was in the year 1144 when I was 30 and he 43, we were wed in Tuckborough and bought a grand hobbit-hole at the South. I sent word to my family, and they came for the wedding of course. There was much merriment, mostly because everyone enjoyed the thought of not having to think about the war that was going on just North of them, but a week after the wedding when they were leaving they finally told me the news that midwife Burrows had died a month past.

I was crushed, my mentor and friend had died. She had lived to be one hundred, and that was grand, but at the thought that she was no longer in this world, I felt despair enter me. I lost part of my heart, and it was never returned to me. I returned to Waymoot to visit her grave, and when I went to my parents hobbit-hole I saw the corner where my little garden used to be was overgrown with roots and most of the flowers had died off. I knew then that my childhood was over and Waymoot was no longer a place I could call home. I was only 30, but I knew I had come of age.

I left Waymoot the next day, and returned to my beloved Tuckborough and Ferumbras. We lived happily there for many months, and then one day to both our joys, I discovered that I was pregnant.

For the first time since my beloved midwife Burrows had left me, I felt true joy once more, I was pregnant. My travels had all payed off, for now I was going to had a child of my very own, a daughter or son I knew not, nor did I care, because I would finally have my child and that was all that mattered to me. The unrest was gone and I knew that I would be happy for the rest of my life.

Time crept by and soon I was giving birth to my child with the help of the Tuckburough midwife. It was long and hard, but finally my child came into this wold and I found that I had given birth to a son. Ferumbras was astatic! Oh he took our little son into his arms and began dancing around the room with him. Our boy, our healthy little boy, our Fortinbras Took.

I smiled gently at the two of them, I felt a tinge of disappointment appear in me. I had secretly wished for a girl, I had wished for a daughter to name Angelica, so my precious midwife could once again by apart of this world. However, I was still happy. I had wanted a child and had been given one, and it was a gift that I accept gratefully.

For a year the three of us were happy in our hobbit-hole, we deeply enjoyed the growing of our son, and we showed him all the love we could. I would often take him into the garden with me and explain herbs and flowers to him, I knew that he didn't understand me, but he smiled and laughed all the same as if what I was telling him was the most wondrous thing in the world. We were happy, yes, but our happiness could not last for long.

 

 

 

(I wrote this more than a long time ago, back in 2001 methinks. I got the idea in my head when I was reading the Prologue to the Lord of the Rings (Concerning Hobbits) - ordered by the sister to put an end to a dispute - when I came across Tolkien telling about the last fight in the Shire, an then the depression. Both which I noticed happened very close together. I then started looking through the appendixes and at family trees - specifically the Took's where I found some Hobbits mentioned in the books that lived in the time, specifically Bandobras who's credited with being the tallest Hobbit and inventor of Golf. Well, then I just started writing as one does when hit with an interesting prospect and seeing I was reading 'I, Tituba' at the time (there are so many similarities...), it started sounding like a mix between Maryse Conde and Tolkien. I should have named it 'I, Mirabella' - or rather 'I, Hobbit')


	2. The Battle of Greenfields

Part Two

The Battle of Greenfields

 

 

 

In the year 1147 tragedy struck me as it had never struck before.

The Orcs had gone insane, it seemed. They were desperate and began to attack outside of the North Farthing. They were all over, and before I knew what had happened Ferumbras made pl;ans for us to go to Hobbiton. Although perhaps closer to the front, it was farther from danger. There was a soldier on every corner of Hobbiton.

I feared for the safety of my little Fortinbras and at first wanted to leave the Shire completely, but Herumbras told me that it was even more dangerous out in the while. And so I was tortured every day because I did not know the fate that awaited us. I did not know if my family would survive. Then one night Bandobras came to the little hobbit-hole we were staying in.

"Brother!" He said to Ferumbras, they embraced and laughed, though at the back of all our minds there was dread.

Bandobras met his nephew whom he had never seen before, and we had a great feast with our windows barred and doors locked tight. We spoke in whispers and kept our light low as Bandobras began telling us news of the front.

"The Orcs seem to be closing in on us," he spoke quickly, his tall body much too big for out small chairs. "They circled the Shire and are now moving in towards the Farthing Stone. They mean to kill us all!"

"NO!" I yelled, letting the cry escape my mouth before I knew it. The two of them looked at me in fear, as if my yell would bring all the Orcs here. "My parents," I explained. "They live in Waymoot, has that been attacked? And what of Tuckburough?"

Bandobras looked very grim there, and his eyes filled with sympathy. "Aye, they went through there."

I began to shake, I knew I might cry. My parents, my old hobbit-hole, my fields and little garden. Were they all gone? Destroyed by these most hated Orcs?

Bandobras eyes seemed to lighten up. "Do not worry sister, the Orcs did go through there, through every village, but not all were lost."

"All is lost! They will take Hobbiton and then return to kill all those remaining!"

"Nay!" Bandobras yelled and was on his feet, a rage in his eyes. "I will not let those fowl Orcs take my beloved lands! Not for all of Middle-Earth would I yield to such foul things."

"I will go with you." Ferumbras said suddenly, roused by his brother's speech.

"Ferumbras! You cannot leave us!"

"I must," he insisted, and we were all on our feet then. "I will protect my land and my family, whom I love dearly," he whispered and then kissed my cheek.

"You're place is here, with your family." I insisted.

"Nay, I place is on the battle-field with my people."

"Go and get your armour!" Bandobras ordered with some joy, and Ferumbras left the room to get his armour and bow, deaf to my tears and calls.

While he was gone, I stared, no glared at the horrible demon before me! I hated Bandobras then with all my heart. I felt that if I could have, I would have jumped upon him and begin to beat him. He felt the rage I was feeling, but did not look away or move to leave, he simply stared back at me with soothing eyes trying to explain to me that all would be well.

My husband came back then, and I thought for sure that it would be the last I would ever see of him, I grabbed at his hands trying to keep him inside, but he would not yield. Fortinbras began crying in his room, but even that did not stop him. The bolt was pushed aside, the door swung open and soon I was alone to my tears and crying child.

I knew what I had to do then, though I didn't know how I would do it. I went to my child's room, and soothed his troubled little heart. Then I found an extra bow and took some of Ferumbras old hunting clothing that fit me. How long I would be away, I did not know, so I left my hobbit-hole and went next door, ignoring all the looks the soldiers gave me.

My neighbours opened their doors to me and I gave them my dear and precious child and gave them instructions on what to do if I never returned. The begged my not to go, and I felt as Ferumbras must of when I yelled and grabbed him, for my mind was yelling at me to stay, but my heart pushed me out the door. My child did not cry, and I was thankful, for I knew I would not have left had he.

Out the door and down the street. I had no pony, so I had to walk, but I was used to that in all my travelling. I hadn't many arrows, and hoped that wherever I was going might have more arrows to spare. I knew where they had gone, for I had seen many soldiers go that way before, but I did not know what would be there when I arrived.

Everyone I met was tense and carried a weapon. They all knew that the Orcs were coming one way or another, and all knew that there was no escape. They would fight as the Orcs came, she however would fight them head on with her husband. Her son would be safe, but she could not leave her husband to fight this enemy.

"If you were a boy, you'd be a great warrior."

How many times had my father said that to me as a child? I had been content with whom and what I was, but now I saw the road clear before me. All hobbits must fight, and we must survive. As long as I was in my own home, nothing would be able to survive my attack. Not birds, and not Orcs now. I was almost 33 now, but I still had much left in my heart from when I was almost 13.

I walked all night long, thinking that my husband and Bandobras couldn't be far ahead of me. It was midday when I reached a line of hobbits burried deep in the mud with their arrows ready, shooting the Orcs that sometimes popped their heads out of the bushes to see what they were up against.

For the first time in my life I saw Orcs, most of them dead now, but some living and hiding. They were horrible grey creatures and smelled fowl even from this distance. Theier armour was crude, but effective, so the hobbits there told me.

"Bandabras went off with a band of horse men last night," a hobbit said as I layed in the mud beside him, my arrow still on my back. "Men and hobbits fighting together."

"Whatever for?"

"They're bait, they are! They'll get all them Orcs following them and leading 'em right to us."

"The Orcs are all coming here? More Orcs?" Fear finally grabbed a hold of my heart, I felt its cold claws dig deep, and they would not let go, no matter how I tried to shake them.

"We wait, and when we see the Orcs we shoot."

"How many of us are there?"

"Oh... say 200 strong."

"And the Orcs?"

He stayed silent for a while.

"More."

There was great unrest along the line. Some hobbits were chatting, but most stayed silent, aiming their bows and conserving their arrows until they had a fine shot of an Orc in front of them. All the while more hobbits came forwards to help, sons and daughters alike.

"I fear what might happen if we fail," I whispered to my hobbit companion once more.

"Ain't nothing to fear, you won't know nothing if we fail, just know that we'll win, and we can all go home then, I think."

"I wish I had brought a knife."

"What do you need a knife for?"

"If they come close..."

"Aye... you'll work it out if they come too close," he muttered, and that did not make her feel any better.

At noon suddenly a platoon of Orcs strove forth. I was both in awe and terrified and the sight of the screaming creatures coming out of the woods towards us. I thought that my beloved husband must have been right behind them, and that thought brightened my heart some.

Hobbits all around began to shoot arrows, and many Orcs fell in the front and then were trampled. Stones were thrown as well, and I saw that that was just as well, because any Orc that fell to the ground was be trampled and they would die a nasty death beneath their comrades feet.

I began shooting my few arrows at them, each one hitting their targets, and I began remembering my childhood. If I pictured these horrible creatures as birds they didn't seen so horrible, as the same time they were such terrifying birds that I still felt fear. My heart turned to midwife Burrows, my parents and son then. With them in my mind I found courage, and when all my arrows were gone, I began to dig for rocks in the mud and threw them at the Orcs.

Suddenly the Orcs were upon us, and here we could not fight them. I ran a little way, my companion at my side. We found a pile of rocks and then began throwing them at the Orcs who would fall and either be trampled upon by Orcs, or stabbed to death by hobbits. The Orcs however continued to advance, and so we had to continually retreat to be able to throw more stones. I wondered if I had come upon my death. Surely there was no way out of this, they would advance, and soon we would fall, but then I heard a cry from behind me and suddenly a horse jumped over my head and I saw a man sitting upon it, swinging a sword.

More men followed suit and I watched in true awe as these men who came from nowhere galloped through the great crowed of evil Orcs and one by one slew them all. My breath caught itself in my throat as I realised that we had been saved and soon awoke to find my companion tugging on my sleeve. We ran forward with smiles.

"You have saved us all!" I yelled, wanted to hug the man who had now dismounted, but they looked grim.

"There are more Goblins coming, this was not part of our attack," I felt my heart sink once more, he called them Goblins, but I knew he meant Orcs. There were far more Orcs coming, and we had barely survived that attack.

"Cheer up little hobbit!" The man yelled, and his grey eyes twinkled, his bloodlust high. "You are among Rangers now, and the Goblins will not find way through us no matter what direction they come from. Even as we speak they are being pushed out of Eriador!"

"Eriador? Where's that?"

"Why that's where you are hobbit!"

"I am in the Shire!" I retorted with much pride. "And my name is Mirabella Took."

"Well Mirabella," he said, his voice low. "You are a stout hobbit, with a good heart. I can see that. If there are more like you, we will surely win."

"All hobbits have good hearts." I said.

"Aye!" Said my comrade, and the Ranger gave a slight smile, and then returned to his Ranger friends.

More arrows were given out, I was given more than I had even originally come with, and my companion and I began looking for rocks. We returned to our dike that now was filled with Orc corpses, but we ignored them as all the others did. Then with our rocks on one side, and our arrows sticking out of the ground on the other side, we waited.

The smell of rotting Orc got to me more than once, but I survived. Bugs that lived in the mud began bitting us all, especially seeing night was coming upon us, but still we waited. Talk of a great feast afterward spread through the line and I though I might die from the thought of returning home and having a nice cooked meal. All I had eaten out there was some stale bread and water.

When night fell the Ranger I had spoken with crawled in on the other side of me with his bow ready, he stared at my rocks with a little amusement.

"Hobbits fight with stones?"

"Just as good as arrows, you'll see."

"I may not, it is getting very dark."

"Light fires then if you cannot see Ranger!"

"My name is Folcred Mirabella, my sword's name is Menelmacar."

"Why'd you name your sword? That's silly. It's as if I were to name my rock," then I picked up on of the rocks and turned it over in my hand. "I shall name you Ise, after my father."

"Menelmacar is the swordsman of the sky, have you ever seen him?"

"Is he a constellation? We have different names for those."

"You cannot see him yet, but when he is up, I will show him to you."

"Why did you name your sword after stars?"

"When my father made this sword, he carved the constellation into the hilt, and so the sword took the name."

"I still think it's silly to name a sword."

"But it's not silly to name a rock?"

"I was only joking then!"

"Shh!" Folcred whispered, and I was silent, soon the entire line was silent. In the distance we could hear yelling and the beating of hooves. "The Orcs! Ready your bow!"

I threw Ise back into the pile and got my bow ready. I had to squint as the sun was already almost down, disappearing to my left. Then the screams were louder, there were Orcs yelling a battle call, or maybe a call of fear. I could not tell. But then I smelt the fowl creatures and saw them and the hobbits and Rangers let their arrows fly.

The Orcs began falling, they did not know what they were running into. Most of them probably had thought that the platoon of Orcs from before was here, but instead they found the enemy. We were perhaps 300 or 400 hundred strong now, I couldn't be sure. Hobbits had died in the first attack, but so many Rangers had come, and more hobbits had joined them, that it was impossible now to tell how many were fighting.

I seemed to run out of arrows just as quick though, and soon found myself throwing Ise and all of his brother into the swarm. The darkness was growing and it was getting harder to aim, but still I could see that my rocks were hitting the Orcs. Half of them must have died running towards us, not being able to go back, but then they were upon us, and as I ran to get more rocks my companion was slain.

He fell hard and was trampled quickly by Orc feet. I was speechless. He had been my friend, I'm sure, but I never knew his name. He will always be my companion though. The Orcs were almost on me when Folcred jumped up and began slashing the Orcs, throwing their black blood upon my face.

"Run little hobbit! You can do no more here!" The he went farther into the mix of enemies and allies.

So I ran, but not too far, I grabbed rocks as I went and would turn from time to time to hit the Orcs that went too near to where I stood, some I think I killed, other I stunned. Still they came, but I could hear more hoof beats, and my heart told me that my beloved must be coming. I was at the edge of the Bindbole Wood then, it felt that if I were to leave the trees I would be safe, but I stayed and still threw rocks.

I had to move about a lot so that the Orcs did not catch me. They were faster than me, but I could hide as all hobbits can, and they would run past me. Then I would throw more rocks and hide once more. The battle went on around me, but I did not know who was winning or losing, and I tried not to think about it, but rather concentrate on where I would hide next.

Then the Orcs seemed to stop coming, and I found less and less targets. Torches were lit, and everyone found themselves once more. There were a few more Orcs about, but they were quickly laid waste to, and then I saw my beloved Ferumbas ridding on a pony alongside his brother Bandobras who was riding a horse.

"Ferumbras!" I yelled and ran towards my husband, he looked towards me shocked. There running towards him was a hobbit covered in mud and Orc blood, with blistered hands and a tired face.

"Mira?" He asked right before I wrapped my arms around him, almost pushing him off his pony, but he held fast and wrapped his arms around me as well. "What are you doing here? You could have been killed!"

"I had to fight! I couldn't stay at home wondering if you were dead or not!" I yelled through tears that washed my face, he was crying as well. As he stayed together happily.

That night there were great bonfires lit in the forest and there was dancing and signing. Bandobras was showing some hobbits the new sport he had just invented called 'golf'. Ferumbras and I layed in each other arms, breathing each other in, overjoyed that we had both survived. We ate some meat that was passed around, and drank much ale.

The next morning everyone collected themselves and began the journey back home. There were many carts where the bodies of dead and wounded hobbits were lain out. I looked, but I couldn't find the body of my companion, so I said farewell to him on my own terms. Just as I said farewell to all the hobbits. Despite the joy the night before, all the faces were cheerless and dirty, it didn't feel like a victory anymore.

I saw the Rangers mount their horses, but I decided not to see them off. I saw Folcred ride away near the front, he did not see me. I never saw him again, and he doesn't often come to my mind, but he will always be there when I think of the Battle of Greenfields, just like my companion will always be there.

In Hobbiton there was a celebration going on. Hobbits were running about carrying food and gifts to each other, the soldiers had thrown away their weapons and were running around spreading the news of the victory, then we appeared before them. The hobbits moved aside to let our sorry band walk through, we smelt, looked terrible, and carried dead with us, it should have stopped all the joy one could muster, but rather the hobbits clapped and cheered and sang songs as we walked down the road.

"Mira! Mira!" A voice came from the crowed and a woman carrying a baby came froward. "Oh thank goodness you're all right! Though you don't look it," she added with a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lips. I knew then she was my neighbour, and the babe in her hands was my own.

She handed Fortinbras to me and I held the small figure in my hands. He smiled and laughed at me, and I smiled back. My little baby was there. My family was reunited finally, and the Orcs were no more. My grief slipped away from my mind then, and I felt the true joy of victory upon me. It was perhaps fitting that my 33rd birthday was a week later. There was a grand celebration in Hobbiton that night.

"A warrior's coming of age!" They all cheered, and we had many roast beasts and fresh breads, puddings and cakes and the finest ales and wines. Afterwards there was talking, singing, and smoking of our pipes. All was well again in the Shire, nothing would make these hobbits frown, I thought for sure.

A few days after the party I travelled with Ferumbras and Fortinbras to Waymoot, where I hoped to find my parents and tell them about my journeys. When I reached Waymoot I found a barren and desolate place. There were few hobbits wandering the streets, and few hobbit-holes left unburnt. My parent's hobbit-hole was no more, the garden destroyed, the hole dug out, my parents gone. All that remained of them were two graves crudely made to honour their poor departed lives.

That was the last time I travelled to Waymoot.

 

 

 

(It was of course right after suggesting the title 'I, Hobbit' that I realised I didn't have a good tittle... or any tittle at all for this Fic. The files are name 'Shire' and 'mira2', so there was no tittle to work off. After lots of going back and forth I realised that 'Mirabella' was probably the best tittle, it works. So here's the story, I wrote these two chapters basically in one sitting, along with a couple of other LOTRFics that I never finished. There is a third chapter here, and years later I have decided to finally write it. So my mission this week is to write that. When this story is finished I will be posting a ten chapter Fic about Merry and Pippin - guess what it's about! Now let me talk about this chapter, a very hard chapter to write. It's hard to put such a happy folk into such a desperate situation and be able to figure out how they'll act. It was also hard trying to figure out exactly what happened during the battle. Most of the info I got was out of the prologue from LOTRs, but it's rather vague and I can't assure you how accurate it is. I had fun finding a name for Amleth and Menelmacar. Trying to name people in Middle-Earth is practically a death wish. You can't make just anything up because they're all based off of languages. So I have to look up names. Menelmacar is actually Orion - other names for it are Telumehtar and in Sindarin it's Menelvagor. Amleth is actually named after the first King of Arthedain (Eriador), but is not that King, completely different time. Jesus! I need a life! Well now that I've given you a lesson in Tolkien, back to my comments!: One of the first images I got in my head was Mira fighting a wolf, after reading more I realised that I couldn't get her fighting a wolf, but I was quite adamant that she still fight. Now onward Prancer and Dancer and lets write the final chapter!)


	3. Days of Death

Part Three

Days of Death

 

 

 

The Shire was never the same again. Many towns had been destroyed, and in the years that followed most days were spent rebuilding them. There was more joy in the Shire then. The enemy was gone, we had a new beginning. There was also however much misery. Lives had been lost, homes destroyed and spirits shaken. Most of the joy I saw and experienced seemed to be just one way of hiding our pain.

Years passed during which Ferumbras and I returned to Tuckborough, hoping to live in peace and happiness for the rest of our lives. Fortinbras grew older of course, and we spent long days in the garden planting herbs. Gardening did not seem to bring joy for me any longer though, the memory of my garden in Waymoot would constantly haunt me, and the older Fortinbras grew, the less he fancied flowers and the more he fancied swords and bows.

So it was that each year I grew apart from my son and my garden. Ferumbras saw that I was ailing and he would try every day to make me laugh. I loved him all the more for it, but hated him as well for being able to go on, to forget all the misery I endured. He lived with glory and renown, I lived only with the death that followed the battle. No glory for Mirabella Took, only memories.

I remained a Midwife, for my love of caring for others did not end, but I felt as though the beauty of the world had had a veiled placed over it and was forever to be in shadow for me. My son, my husband, myself... all shadows of what they had once been.

These years did come to an end though. As the Shire was rebuilt, my spirit was also and it was on a cold winter's morning in 1150 that it came to my attention that I was pregnant once more. That night the house was ablaze with warmth and joy as we celebrated this. I recalled my sincerest wish to have a family when I was younger and all my sorrow left me then.

It was in September when the leaves were just beginning to fall that Angelica Took was born. My first daughter. The dark veil had been lifted and I was given a daughter. How many hours I spent holding my daughter and taking in her beauty I cannot tell you. She was my daughter, my Angelica. I no longer missed my dear old Midwife, because here she lay in my arms.

Fortinbras, being only six did not care for her nearly as much as I did, he had wanted a brother after all, but Ferumbras loved her as I did and I felt then that my dear family couldn't have been happier, or indeed more whole. We had wished to live in peace and happiness for the rest of our lives, and so we were.

I would take Angelica into the garden with me, and although my love for gardening was nothing like it once had been, I found joy in it once more and began teaching Angelica the herbs. Even though she was only an infant I began to imagine what she would be when she came of age. Would she too, be a Midwife? Would she become a house wife? Whom would she marry? How many children would she have? Would she be happier than I?

Perhaps my mother used to think this as she watched me sleep. What would she think of my life now? Would she be proud of me? Had she been proud of me? What did my mother and father think of me before they died? Those were the only sad thoughts that I had in those happy times. I felt as though nothing could again bring my spirit down.

Three years later I had yet another daughter, my last child. Ferumbras named her Donnamira after myself and his mother, and I thought it a very good name for her. Fortinbras was by this time nearly ten and more troublesome than any Took or Waymoot, as far as I knew. Every day he would find some way or another to get himself into (and less often) out of trouble. Having yet another sister meant to him that he would have to find a more efficient way of finding followers. Angelica however, loved having a sister and would spend every moment that she could looking over her.

How was I to know that the Long Winter was coming? How could any of us have known that although the Shire was plentiful and happy once more, that I would be taken back? A final test for the Shire, and the final sorrow for I.

The winter of 1157 came early and simply never left. At first we thought nothing of it, there was more snow than we were used, but the children enjoyed playing in it. The parents didn't have this comfort though, and had to concentrate on the cost of keeping the house warm and feeding their families.

I worked more that winter then I can ever remember. Sickness began to plague us, and my saved herbs were quickly running out. Food became scarce, every day people were sicker and hungrier and when spring arrived, we were faced with the horrible truth that no flower would bloom and no crop would be sewn.

Panic nearly swept the Shire, but we stayed strong... at first. We knew that our food supplies would not last us long, for we had never planned for such a horrible event to fall upon us. My own supplies of herbs I knew were not nearly enough for the increasing sickness, I was forced to give out smaller amounts, but knew that it would have nearly no effect. Ferumbras and Fortinbras had to go out hunting to find us food, but there was little more than birds to hunt in the Shire.

I tried to keep Angelica and Donnamira inside as much as possible, knowing that because they were young they were more susceptible to sickness. Out of fear of becoming ill myself from patients and passing it onto them, I tried to stay away from them as much as possible, touching them only in the most dire circumstances. Most days I found myself cleaning my house over and over, trying to kill any disease and then I would clean my children before and after they did anything.

When 1158 came around and we saw that the winter was becoming worse, we finally did panic. Almost all animals were gone and so food was near impossible to find. We would go days without so much as a bite. The death toll became so high that we could no longer ignore it. People were now dying from sickness and hunger. Those hobbits who had pets would, only out of desperation, eat them.

My own family became sick and weak. Ferumbras and Fortinbras were almost never at home, always out hunting for food, fighting wolves or working on farms to receive a small portion of what crops were able to grow, and they were very few. Ferumbras and Bandobras also spent much of their time caring for their sick and dying father, Isumbras. Everyone knew that he would not last this, but continuing to hope for the best, he was carefully brought to live with us, Bandobras stayed with us afterwards as well.

Donnamira was only four, and sickness claimed her first. Weeks I spent pouring over her, using everything I had learned in my years to save her, but it was futile. My dear Donna, my youngest daughter, died on that excuse for a summer and I was left with the knowledge that I could not save her. I had let my daughter die.

The end seemed nearer then, nearer even then when Orcs charged on me. Death seemed inevitable. After her death I stopped caring for others, I stopped being a Midwife and waited for death to claim us all. I waited long months, and death did not come, but something else did that none of us expected.

Gandalf came to the Shire.

When first I layed eyes on him, it was from the window in my hobbit hole. He came to Tuckborough. We were one of the last towns he visited in his mission of salvation. When he first arrived at Tuckborough his reputation had preceded him. He was known for his magic, how he had made crops grow and warmth come. How he had healed many who were sick and fed more who were hungry. He did not banish the winter, but he made it far more bearable.

He came to our home first, passing by desperate hobbits who reached out for him. He would hand them a loaf of bread and continue on his way. He came to us because of the position of our family, Isumbras was Thain - though his son presided in his sickness - and he knew me to be a Midwife of great talent.

I saw him walk to our door and knock with his great staff and I wondered at him because I had never seen a man of such height, grace and power. There seemed to go with him a hope and I felt for but a moment that things might become much better for us hobbits.

Tea was served and the entire family, Isumbras excluded, sat down with him and began speaking about the condition of the Shire. He told us something of his past, how he was a Wizard and was here to help all the free peoples of Middle-Earth. He told us how things would get better, but there was still a hard road before us.

I won't bore you with all the talk of planning and medicine and crops that was discussed. To tell you that Gandalf had many ideas on how to help the Shire is enough. However the season was getting colder and we knew that soon it would be 1159. Sickness and hunger were always worse in the real winter, and so all knew that only a little help could be given, but Gandalf was sure that it would be given.

When the men left to hunt, Gandalf stayed behind with me and Angelica. I was nervous of speaking with him, because already I had such a strong reverence of him, but he seemed to like my company and I soon found myself speaking gaily with him. He let me forget about the troubles of the Shire and I began to tell him many stories of what the Shire had been like, such stories I was sure he had heard before, but was polite to listen to me nonetheless.

The subject of pipe-weed eventually came up when I saw that he had a pipe, and as I told him of the fine pipe-weed that we had, my spirit shrunk again because I felt as if those crops would never again grow.

"It sounds like a marvellous weed," he said, speaking lightly as he saw my disparity. "I will try it when the crops are sewn again."

There were times when we would also speak of herbs and medicine. He taught me a great deal that I did not know, and I think I thought him a few tricks of my own. But such talks were hopeless because there was no way they we could use them, with herbs not growing and sicknesses being far beyond our healing.

My favourite talks though, had nothing to do with the Shire or herbs, they had to do with the rest of the world. I asked Gandalf much about the going ons of other places, at first he was shocked of this, because not many hobbits worried beyond their own borders, but was soon enchanted by my curiosity and told me great stories of great battles and good times of Elves and Men and Dwarves. He told me for the rise and fall of kingdoms and love stories from lands long lost. He taught me and Angelica many songs from these places as well and when we sang them the house seemed warm and happy once more.

He had a kind smile and a gentle look and he became to me like a father. He spent many months with us during that hard winter, the hardest of all. Bodies were layed out in the streets and we would go out to burry them with heavy hearts so that the wolves would not eat them. Gandalf was always helping to cheer and take care of us. He would go off for days at a time to help the neediest and return exhausted, but hid it behind a smile. He was our saviour.

When spring was approaching, and the whether mildly lifting, Isumbras Took III died, his old age could no longer hold off sickness and he died in his sleep. Ferumbras became the Thain then, but none rejoiced. Things went on as they ever did, in an unbearable misery on us all. My talks with Gandalf were fewer now and I found myself losing all hope once more.

One day during a grey summer of dead plants and dying people, Gandalf came to me for my assistance. He had with him, to my greatest surprise and delight a bag of herbs. He said it had taken him long to gather them all, and now that he had them he wanted me to go out and help the Shire once more. Of course I was hesitant at first.

Why was I needed? Who would take care of Angelica? What could I even do to help? Gandalf's answers were simple. I was not the first person he had asked to help, many doctors and Midwives had been asked to lend all their talents to the sick, and he knew that I had great knowledge in the matter. Angelica, he said, could be taken care of by Fortinbras.

I can remember sitting by my daughter's bed, holding the bag of herbs and thinking about how much I loved her, and I had loved Donnamira. Then I thought of all the other poor mothers in the Shire who had lost their children, and might lose their children. I know I had to help them, and I knew that I would have to leave my dearest Angelica.

For the second time, I left my child.

What a wonderful tale it would be if I said that I travelled far and long, going down my old paths and helping those in need by the side of Gandalf, but it was not so. I did not travel far, and Gandalf was not with me either. The paths were cold and there was a constant fear of wolves in the air. The sick were everywhere, and I felt like no amount of help that I gave them did any good.

I did not travel for very long. The entire summer I was gone, and by the end as the colder weather descended on us, my herbs were gone as well, and so I returned home wondering if I had done any good, and whether or not Gandalf would ask me to leave once again.

I returned home and came face to face with a nightmare. Angelica laid in her bed, a fever deep-set on her and there was nothing I could do.

How I cursed myself for having left her! How I cried at not having saved any herbs for my family. How I hoped and wished harder than anything that Gandalf would soon return to save my dearest little one! I thought that if I had come home sooner, I might be able to do something, but all my thoughts were hopeless. I knew that my daughter was going to die.

Those long days and nights, I sat by her bed, singing the song Gandalf had taught us. She would stare at ceiling as if death had already taken her, but there were times when as I sang, her eyes would light up... but always, they would return to their darkened state and I would turn to fear once more.

Gandalf did return, and this time he did not knock. He threw open the door and ran through the halls. He had heard of Angelica's sickness and had returned as fast as he could. He found me siting in my daughter's room, crying as I held the hand of my dead daughter. The last of my spirits faded in the fleeting moment that Angelica had ceased to breathe and I was left with nothing.

My family mourned over her loss, as did Gandalf, but their tears would not bring back Angelica or Donnamira. I gave up on the Shire, I could nt longer care for its fate and told Gandalf that I would never heal again.

He put his warm hands on my shoulder and looked at me with sad eyes

"You are a brave girl, the finest Took - no hobbit, I have ever met," he smiled his kind smile, and all I could do was cry in his arms.

I retired to my bed, and that is where I stayed. The winter came, less harsh then before and I saw that the Days of Death were almost over, but I did not rejoice, there was no more joy in me. Ferumbras, my dear husband, my truest love, spent many of his hours watching over me, but no longer could he get me to laugh, or even to smile.

Gandalf would visit me as well, and he would tell me more stories about all of Middle-Earth, most of them good tales with strong characters happy endings, but few of them could I remember moments after he had spoken them, and nothing he said could bring me any happiness. I was beyond all of their help.

Often in those days I thought of my parents, my daughters, my companion from the battle, all these hobbits who had passed on. I wondered if there was anything after death, or if everything just stopped, and you felt nothing and saw nothing and was nothing. I thought to myself that such a thing would not be so terrible, for I could no longer feel in life.

All thoughts were fleeting.

There is nothing left of my tale. I died in the spring of 1160. Outside my window I saw flowers blooming in my garden once more, and it was the last thing I ever saw before I finally gave into sickness and heartbreak. I would like to tell you of what happened to me after my death, but... Well, Gandalf tells it much better than I.

You probably mourn my passing or my tale, but do not. Try and think of the better things. I loved, was loved. I lived and gave life to others and although my end came, the Shire continued and never saw days as sad as the ones I have spoken of. The Shire is a happy place, and I think it always will be. There will always be happiness and love. Most importantly, there will always be life.

So do not mourn, smile instead at all of life's beauty.

 

 

 

(Now, I'd like to say that I really don't see this as a FanFic. It is, because it's based off of someone elses creation, but when you look at it, the only real connection it has with the other stories is Gandalf, and he's in it for like one page in total. Anyway, there's my story. Some of you may be wondering where the hell Mirabella fits into the Middlevers. Well, she's the sister-in-law of Bullroarer, Grandmother of Gerontius the Old Took, Great-Great-Grandmother of Bilbo Baggins, Great-Great-Great-Grandmother of Frodo Baggins and Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandmother of Peregrin Took, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Fatty Bolger, but of course, no relation to Sam. So all but five of the characters mentioned in here were made up by me, using the text as references, so it's very possible that this story could have happened. When writing scenes between Mira and Gandalf I kept on thinking that Gandalf would remember her and see some of her in Bilbo and Pippin, probably Frodo too. I like the thought that she was the first hobbit that he really befriended and as a result was eternally fond of hobbits. I was sad about not writing in his fireworks, but I just couldn't see any way of adding them in! Let's see, oddly enough this last chapter was inspired by Frankenstein, not so much the book as Mary Shelley's writing, especially that last bit, Victor's speeches were running through my head, rather than anything Tolkien ever wrote. Probably why there is so little dialogue in this chapter is because of that influence. Mary Shelley doesn't use a lot of dialogue - although, when you think about it, all of Frankenstein is told completely in dialogue... then again, so it my story. The ending was a little hard at first, I didn't know where to go from 'I died', but then I just started writing and all those other lines came out and I hope they make you smile. This story is not meant to be sad, honestly. Well methinks this is the end, but I urge you to read my other LOTRFic, because you'll probably like it more. Thanks for reading!)


End file.
